An Animagus's Predicament
by Emanium
Summary: Set in 1950. First it's wet dreams, then she's lusting after the entire Hogwarts staff. What's more- Albus is handsome today, as in really, incredibly good-looking. TransfigurationProfessor!Albus x DADAProfessor!MinervainHeat. We're in for a lemony ride.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I've had this story forever. It's been in my drive since 2010 but I've never finished it. Anyway, yesterday I fished it out and thought maybe I should give it a try. Try being minor edit, churn it through Hemingway (lovely app), and then throw it out to the ocean. Maybe this time around I'll be more motivated to finish this, but we'll see. No promises._

_It follows the cliché "Minerva's in heat, Albus and his giant meat pole to the rescue" plot, but blame her - of all species she chooses to be a cat, and that doesn't bode well for her character in light of Rule #34 (if it exists, there is porn of it). And I know, 5 years ago, bad bad English, not that I've improved any._

* * *

_Minerva leaned back against her flamboyant purple armchair. She had an air of confidence that contrasted her unfortunate partner of the evening. Technically, the armchair was the Deputy Headmaster's, although she would think it quite distinguishable given his eccentric tastes. She had claimed it all the same since their weekly chess matches have begun. After all, not everyone is privy to the comforts of Albus Dumbledore's private sitting room._

_The pair sat by the fireplace on a cold December night, a half-played chessboard levitating between them. Or rather, it was an almost finished game, as she already had him in check. Albus was rubbing his beard as he stared at the chessboard. His remaining chess pieces were mouthing their advices and demonstrating with elaborate gestures. Minerva grinned, knowing their desperation was a sign of defeat._

_Albus leaned forward, eyes glimmering as his mind worked feverishly. He was deducing all possible outcomes of the game. None were favorable, and all prompted an inevitable step his partner would no doubt take. Clutched in his left hand was a half-filled cup of hot chocolate – his favorite drink for these quiet evenings. Minerva usually refrains from making a comment on his sweet tooth until he asks for his third refill from the house elves. He absently took a sip and stole a glance at her._

_Minerva smiled smugly at his apparent helplessness. She had taken her square spectacles off and placed them on the small coffee table. Always the more organized of the pair, she had aligned her glasses with the rest of her belongings: her copy of Transfigurations Today, a stack of graded Defense against the Dark Arts essays, her tartan stationary wrap, and a single pink rose he had given her during their private dinner._

_The black off-shoulder dress she wore for the occasion was beyond breathtaking, if not distracting. It flashed a bit of her cleavage despite the voluminous teaching robes she layered on top. Albus had unsuccessfully adverted his gaze every time it fell on her bosom._

_Albus heaved a long sigh, and instead of moving his piece, he covered his face with both hands in mock exasperation. "I concede defeat," he admitted through the small gap between his palms._

_Minerva almost squealed with delight. A series of floating numbers appeared above the board, showing the running tally between them. Minerva's 22 jumped off the hovering string and a 23 appeared in replacement._

_Albus chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Well-played, my dear." The chess pieces revived themselves at his permission and he levitated it back to his shelf._

_Relaxing into her chair once again, Minerva looked at him with visible content. "I'm going to have a good night's sleep tonight."_

_"It's been a while since you've won, I'm sure it feels rewarding indeed," he remarked nonchalantly. Minerva cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow._

_"Perhaps if you've spent more time concentrating on the game instead of my attire, you would have kept your winning streak," she purred. Her voice turned out more suggestive than she intended it to be._

_He seemed to have caught on to her flirtations, for the twinkling light blue in his eyes turned a shade darker. In a dangerous hushed tone, he complimented, "Who could blame me? You look lovely tonight. I had to place an invisible barrier around you to ward off your many suitors."_

_"Drunkards, you mean?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust, remembering the night's events._

_"Men, nonetheless," he said with a hint of possessiveness. His knuckles whitened for a split second, then he released his grip. "Their soberness or lack thereof has little bearing on how alluring you were tonight, and I dare say a fair number of them had merely begun their drinking. If I weren't as protective and disturbed as I were, I would have been quite empathetic." He paused, amused as she frowned. "I'm joking, Min. I could never associate with those who behave less than gentlemanly to a lady."_

_"Hence you escorted your lady to your chambers for a chess game that you paid little attention to. How noble you are." The sly smile plastered on her face was much like the one she displayed after her little feats during his Transfiguration classes._

_"But of course. I wanted to keep the pleasure for myself." He rose from his armchair and strolled around hers, putting his hands on either side of her shoulders. He massaged her gently, easing the tension away, and dropped his hands lower to meet the hems of the silky fabric clinging to her arms. Her breathing quickened at his touch, much to his satisfaction. He leaned down, whispering into her ear, "Only when I imagined Armando in all his glory was I able to concentrate on the game. And even then I lost."_

_Minerva turned around and gasped in mock horror. "That was the image you had in mind while you were staring at me?"_

_He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. "I confess, I've had more adventurous things in mind other than our naked Headmaster." He dropped his gaze from her face to the length of her body in an appreciative manner. Reaching to feel the curve of her waist, he whispered, "How could ever I avert my gaze from such a gorgeous creature?"_

_He eased her outer robe off to form a puddle at her feet, revealing the dress underneath. His fingers danced on her soft porcelain skin, not a blemish or a mark despite her years of Auror training. The fabric hugged her slender figure in the most appropriate yet provocative way. "This dress is a most worthy purchase," he breathed into her neck, sending shivers down her spine._

_She reached for his face, marveling at his handsome features. It was quite the talk of her days when she was a student, when he was at his prime and almost every student he had taught had had a crush on him. His auburn hair had started graying at the temples, but to her the extra touch of his years only served to make him all the more dashing. There came with age an air of authoritativeness and a pinch of vulnerability that he struggled to hide. His brush with death in war had stripped him of his immortality in her juvenile delusions, and she found layered beneath her admiration for his intelligence and his talent was too much care for his wellbeing and happiness._

_It was, in one simple word, love._

_He smiled and held her closer by her waist, leaving only a step between them. A step, she believed, crossing the line between friendship and something more intimate. Her hand came to brush and comb out his soft beard, another feature she had only dreamed of touching. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his chest._

_"I did pay a generous sum for this dress. It would be wasteful if I only have the courage to wear it once," she whispered. Her thoughts started losing their coherency as he leaned in to plant butterfly kisses down her neck._

_"I would brew a pot of Liquid Luck for you if only that would motivate you to wear it again in my presence." He paused in his ministrations to look at her. She saw the unmistakable twinkle in his eyes as he brought his hand up to caress her cheek. He ran his fingers down from her ear to her chin, and curled a stubborn lock of hair behind her ear, admiring her matchless beauty._

_"Frankly I'd use Liquid Luck for more important purposes," Minerva drawled._

_"This is an important purpose," he countered defensively. "Although, seeing the power you have over me tonight makes me question whether you truly harbor such hesitations."_

_"I did, but tonight feels most rewarding. I might change my mind. And if I don't," she paused for a moment, thoughtful, "You'll just have to remind me."_

_"I endeavor to do more than 'remind' you. I ought to shower you with dresses of my own liking, and allow you to parade them for my viewing pleasure. It would be most… entertaining, don't you agree?"_

_"I'd wager the word you were thinking is 'titillating'. But I agree, it would be an enjoyable evening."_

_"Even better when I undress you," he murmured._

_With his body pressed against hers, she could feel his telltale erection pulsing against her abdomen. His desire filled her with courage that she had never conjured quite enough throughout her love life, or lack thereof._

_The most courageous she had been was when she was eighteen and fueled by the powers of first love. Even then, the best she could do was a written confession on a Valentine's Day card. She had charmed it to resemble Rolanda Hooch's illegible handwriting, before dumping it into his mess of Ministry letters and love confessions. She never found out whether he had read it, kept it, or burnt it, and she reckoned she never would._

_She knew exactly why she reveled in his attention. He looked at her now as a man looking at his woman. Not a teacher at his student, or a mentor at his apprentice, or a professor at his colleague and dearest friend._

_She searched in the darkened wells of his eyes to find evident signs of his insatiate carnal hunger. Their fragile professional façade was breaking with every breath and touch. She wanted to savor the unstoppable flow when the dam collapses._

_He leaned into her, breathing warm gasps of air against her skin. "I can ravish you here and now, Minerva. I am too strained in my pants to think, and I have too much blood rushing south for me to be a gentleman," he muttered huskily. "I am giving you a window of opportunity to run away as far as you can. If you don't take it, I can only assume you have given me permission to claim you tonight."_

_She blushed furiously, but shook her head with finality._

_The look he gave her was almost mesmerizing to look at. A signature Albus smile that had bordered on a naughty, satisfied smirk, tinted with sincere care and pride. The smirk reduced her to the love-struck eighteen year old, but the caring smile raised her self-worth above all else._

_He interrupted her thoughts with a sudden resolution. "I believe a mattress is more comfortable than an armchair." He scooped her up with ease and headed towards his bedchambers._

_In Albus's arms, she clung to him like a kitten, feeling his chiseled chest and thumping heart beneath his blue robes. With each confident stride, she felt her breath hitch and subside, her heart pounding, every nerve in her stirring. She reminded herself that their relationship, as bizarre as it felt, was about to change. Never would she be able to see her friend and mentor without the overlay of him being her lover._

_Yet terming him her 'lover' was no less an overwhelming thought. Gods forbid, she was so aroused, she could feel the wetness in her knickers._

_There were other things that made the heat within her grow to an almost unbearable state. All Minerva could make out with her acute sense of smell was the sweet chocolaty smell on him, no doubt a reminder of his late night drink. The smell of chocolate was coupled with something she had always recognized to be distinctly Albus. It was of Sherbet Lemons, old books, and a faint musky scent that often sent her libido in overdrive. That resulted in many nights of self-gratification in her dormitories, and later her bedchambers. It made her mind wander, wondering what he would taste like if she dared place her lips on his._

_Albus lowered her onto his bed. It was an elegant four-poster, curiously void of his usual possessions. With a careless wave, the fire roared under his command. He then climbed on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows and lowering himself till he was mere centimeters away from her. Captivated by her youth and beauty, he was momentarily awestruck._

_She ran her hands through his auburn hair, and wrapped her arms around his neck, closing the distance between them. The kiss started gentle and innocent, but quickly evolved to a new level of urgency. His lips felt warm, wet, and soft against hers, though she couldn't quite place what he tasted like._

_She parted her lips and responded enthusiastically, delving into the depths of his mouth with her tongue. Her experimental moves turned desperate as his mouth felt dryer, less responsive, and less eager, much to her dismay. His entire being was melting away when she finally recognized the item her memory had managed to place._

_He tasted of… her cotton pillowcase._


	2. Chapter 2

"Ugh," Minerva immediately detached herself from her partner with a look of disgust.

She had wrapped her arms around a fluffy white pillow. As the unpleasant taste of laundry detergent filled her mouth, she felt that her insistence on using the scouring charm alone was now well justified.

Dimly registering the light penetrating between her draped curtains, she uttered a time-telling spell, without bothering to sit herself upright to read her antique desk clock. _Albus's _antique desk clock, such was her untimely reminder. It was his Christmas and parting gift to her the night before he went on a lookout for Grindelwald. Her devastation had drained her to a gaunt empty shell for two weeks. Two weeks she had devoured every detail from the Daily Prophet for the merest sign of his survival. Like a lost soul she had spent hours retracing their footsteps, waiting for her bloodied warrior to step through the gates.

It was bliss she had never known when he stumbled through the Hogwarts forecourt after a barely passable apparition. Supposedly, he had managed to escape the harassment of insistent, concerned Healers who paid no mind to his requests. Healers are by profession imperious but Albus was no better. He demanded to be sent back to Hogwarts, and when he was forcibly detained, Albus Dumbledore decided he could take no more. He really was in no state to walk, let alone apparate. She ran to him as his limp left leg gave way, and he crashed unceremoniously into grass and mud. Minerva dropped to her knees and took his hand in hers. She was trembling as she held onto him, taking in the warmth of his skin and the pumping of his pulse. He was alive. He came back. They were both oblivious to the world as she broke into uncontrollable sobs and laughter, he into a relieved smile and soft chuckles. Gently he combed his hand through her ebony locks and pulled her to his chest. His heart was thumping loudly, full of life and vigor. She laid with him, drowning in his sweet assurance, thanking the gods for his safe return.

Minerva groaned into her pillow. Trust that intelligent brain of hers to bring up her most precious memories immediately after a wet dream. She opened her eyes briefly to confirm that she now hugged her spare pillow sitting against the headboard, not her ill-imagined partner. That one was no doubt wet with evidence of her amorous advances.

Following a few embarrassed tosses and turns, her thoughts returned to one Albus Dumbledore. Her mind's eye lingered on his shoulder-length hair, and the singular strands of silver mingled with the mass of reddish brown. She thought of his hands, skin marred by countless confrontations with the darkest wizards of their world, wrapped tentatively around her smaller ones with a reassuring squeeze. She recalled his scent, then his taste. Then she cursed him again and again as she muffled herself into her fluffy new best friend.

The shame of dreaming about her colleague subsided and was soon replaced by an overwhelming, sensuous need. A need that she was unaware of possessing for some twenty-four years of her life. Never was she one to have such erotic dreams, but for this one time she did, she had become painfully aroused.

Covering her body with the thin blanket she had kicked off, she rolled onto her stomach and supported her weight on her left elbow. Her right hand traveled gingerly southwards, where she felt wet and empty. The amount of lubrication her body had produced while she was asleep was a surprise, one that struck her as pleasant and disturbing. Her fingers grazed the flesh of her clitoris with the softest of touches, and even that garnered a shiver of pleasure. She had never been this sensitive to the touch, especially to her own fingers, but now she was having trouble stifling the wanton moans that escaped her with the gentle massage of her most intimate parts.

As she touched herself, her mind fled back to Albus. She remembered his feathery kisses and his possessive grip, both gentle but firm. In her mind it was he who was pleasuring her and taking her to new heights. She pictured his look of concentration during their chess game, then his tenderness - eyes full of wonder and adoration - when they were in his bedchambers. Every low growl thick with desire reverberated in her ears, every love bite strengthened by possessive need left its mark on her unblemished skin. She allowed her imaginary partner to roam the unexplored spans of her body, to touch her and to fill her, as she did her best to emulate his powerful thrusts with her fingers.

She imagined him feeling equal amounts of pleasure as she climaxed. Suppressing her moans of gratification, she collapsed on her bed and waited for her spasms to subside. Drenched in her own sweat, she basked in the afterglow as she shut her eyes, willing her thoughts away. Her little session seemed to have sparked an intense desire for her to mate with him, in the most animalistic sense of the word.

She needed a bath.

She felt exhausted from her morning exercise, and she reckoned she smelled of sex. No doubt she would be releasing more pheromones into the air than her teenage students could tolerate. Experience had taught her that pitched tents and reddened faces were not at all rare for fourth-years and beyond. Those were usually followed by the chaos of Disarming spells gone haywire, dark creatures springing to freedom, and half-bred Patronuses erupting into thick smoke. The results of having a poltergeist at Hogwarts is enough trouble for the staff to deal with.

She perched herself up on her side, adjusting the thin straps of her nightgown as she tried to find her bearings. Armando would be less than pleased to see the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher being late to breakfast. He insisted that shared meals were key to group bonding. She resisted pointing out that Horace Slughorn had been attending every meal since her enrolment to fill his swelling midsection, without making the slightest improvement in nurturing his interpersonal relationships. In fact, upon closer inspection, one would notice that his seat was about four inches away from his neighbors on either side. Even Professor Binns was only isolated by three inches.

Picking up her wand from her bedside table, she gave it a wave at the general direction of the bathroom. She heard with content the distinct sound of running water filling her tub.

Upon a content stretch and yawn, she deliberated getting out of bed. Yet the softness of the mattress coupled with the fortress of bundled white sheets around her lured her back into her safe haven. "No harm stealing a few more seconds of bliss," she thought. Behind her, the tub was nowhere near full.

She also needed to rinse her mind of dirty thoughts before her meeting with Albus at breakfast.

* * *

Albus stacked his letters in a pile and sighed. "No more Ministry matters for the time," he congratulated himself. He had had a productive morning, going through all the official and unofficial matters he had on hand. Now that his evening was spared, he thought about asking Minerva out to dinner. "Not a date," he reminded himself. "Dinner, between friends. Colleagues. Nothing too special or extravagant."

He opened his drawer and proceeded to place the letters inside. Once again, he caught sight of the secluded corner where he had placed a precious envelope. Every now and then, he took it out and watched the animation with fascination.

He remembered the afternoon he spent tossing out his Valentine's cards. He had a bit of spare time as his sixth-years had decided to hold an interclass love potion brewing competition. By noon, the boiling pot erupted like a volcano, splattering its unsuspecting audience with the viscous mixture. Lovestruck teenagers then roamed the halls and barged into classrooms, demanding sloppy kisses in the most conspicuous of places. The most surprising revelation of the day was that the staff was no match for their students, as proven by poor Professor Flitwick, who narrowly outran a stampede when Tom Riddle appeared on the opposite end of the corridor. Albus, the other most popular wizard at Hogwarts, had to cancel his classes to avoid physical assault from his students.

In the safety of his chambers, Albus downed the love potion antidote Slughorn had brewed for the teaching staff. It was an odd pink color and tasted of molten plastic, but he decided it was necessary after seeing Professor Merrythought metaphorically slobbering after a sixth year Slytherin. He reminded himself to be wary of food and drinks, especially the mysterious floating desserts he had encountered on the moving staircases. He had already ignored three strawberry cupcakes and a lemon tart, and his stomach was growling at the constant sights and whiffs of delicious foods that ended up elsewhere. Picking up the chocolates that accompanied his cards, he sighed with disappointment. They looked handmade, tasty, and utterly harmless. "But one can never be too careful at Hogwarts," he thought, tossing them into the bin.

He was three-quarters through with his batch - feeling slightly guilty that he needed to check the class lists when he didn't remember the less impressive students - when he noticed a white envelope sticking out at the bottom. He picked it up and scrutinized it, tasting the traces of magic left behind. It seemed that someone with expertise at concealment charms and transfiguration had made an effort to impress him.

He scanned the almost unreadable handwriting with interest. There was definitely a modification charm placed there to mislead him. The envelope was not addressed to 'Professor Dumbledore' or 'Albus'. He could not tell whether it was from a student or a colleague, but the difficulty of magic used bordered on the latter.

On the front of the card was a heart with wings, the background sprinkled with falling sparkles. It was the typical Valentine's card one would find at Diagon Alley, nothing out of the ordinary. He wanted to mock himself for his momentary expectations, but awe overtook him as the card started to transform.

The falling sparkles yellowed and dulled. Behind the heart, an enormous bird flapped its magnificent wings. It donned a coat of white feathers and stretched tall and proud, its shimmering blue eyes fixed on the onlooker. As it perched itself on the heart, the sparkles stilled completely. The sands of time ceased falling as the phoenix found true love.

Albus had never registered his Animagus form at the Ministry for obvious reasons. First, it was not a convenient form for traveling, and many nights he stayed awake pondering why of all animals was he chained to such a flamboyant creature. Then he remembered how flamboyant he was most of the time and reluctantly acknowledged the link. Perhaps Fawkes was also to blame, considering how Minerva - a cat animagus - owned a family cat, and well, he owned a family phoenix. Fair price for choosing the fanciest species for a pet when he was five.

Then again, his enemies need not read all about his alter ego on a public register, lest he gets captured and detained. Nevertheless, having learned a wandless disillusionment charm to cast at will and with childlike mischief at heart, it was not all too rare that Albus traveled the school grounds at night in his Animagus form. Only once was he seen, but with his charming smile he managed to convince the school matron otherwise by putting the blame on Fawkes, without even needing to obliviate the woman.

Yet, judging from the white phoenix dancing across his card, staring back with piercing blue eyes, his stalker must have been a tad more observant than the mediwitch. Of course, he had an inkling of who his secret admirer was, but he had never had the courage to act on his assumptions.

He placed the card back into his drawer. It was ten to eight, fair time to escort a lady to breakfast. Stifling his emotions, he wrapped himself in his teaching robes and headed for Minerva's chambers.


	3. Chapter 3

_"What is it that Professor Beery wanted to seek again?"_

_Minerva woke from her daydream. "Cephalopod Ink, Sir."_

_It was a peaceful spring afternoon, bordering on summer. Her Transfiguration professor was rowing their boat towards the center of the Great Lake. He was his same dashing self, if not slightly younger than she remembered him to be. His hair shone in a bright shade of red under the sun. Behind him his silver outer robes were discarded carelessly on a bench, and his slim-fitting shirt accentuated his build with every rowing stroke. The sight of him was mesmerizing. She felt childish, as if she was going through her schoolgirl crush again._

_"He expects his students to retrieve ink from the Giant Squid?" Albus asked skeptically._

_"I suppose a normal squid would do," she explained, stifling a smile at his look of incredulity._

_She was grateful that her kind professor had decided to help, when he saw her pushing the boat towards the lake on her own. Her herbology assignment was intended for groups of two, but no one dared ask the ice queen to be their partner, except that unbearable, arrogant Tom Riddle. She made a face of disgust, remembering the less than genuine invitation he gave her. When she had rejected him, his flawless facade cracked and he sneered. He taunted her that he would toast to her floating corpse, and when the tides of the Great Lake washes her stinking bloated body up the shore, he would present the fine dinner to the acromantula he knows to reside in the Forbidden Forest. She had snapped that she would rather drown in the lake than to partner with the likes of him._

_Nevertheless, when she painstakingly pushed the boat into the water and watched the movements of the disrupted surface, beneath which the water was so dark and murky that the lake looked bottomless, she was not at all convinced that Riddle's threat was not a jinx. She had had an eerie feeling that she would not stay dry for the entire trip._

_If Albus had noticed her momentary discomfort, he did not push her to confide her thoughts. Instead, he asked, "Why didn't you partner with Miss Sprout? The professor mentioned once or twice that she is quite the junior herbologist. He plans to take her under his wing when she graduates."_

_Minerva smiled in pride for her friend's achievements. "Of course, Pomona has proved herself the most outstanding candidate in the field, and I've heard once or twice that she is planning to continue her studies in Herbology." She paused, recalling why she was left with no partner in the first place. "The issue is, Pomona scored full marks in the test last month, so she was exempted from this stage of the assignment. The professor had kindly awarded her with a vial of cephalopod ink, and that one, Sir, is from the Great Squid itself."_

_"I see," Albus replied in realization. He nodded to himself after a moment's contemplation, much to Minerva's confusion. "Maybe I should too."_

_"Should what, Professor?" She asked, curious._

_"Give my favorite student a special reward," he said evenly, his eyes locked on somewhere afar._

_Minerva paused, uncertain whether to assume she was his favorite student. She would sound boastful if she did, but she felt a pang of jealousy to assume she wasn't._

_As if he was reading her thoughts, he flashed her a mischievous toothy smile. "I have a student scoring full marks for the last two years, and I haven't given away a single vial of cephalopod ink. It seems to me that Professor Beery would disapprove of my methods." He continued knowingly when she opened her mouth to speak, "I know, I know - I'm not that fond of ink either. Catnip then?" He chuckled when she frowned, shaking her head resolutely._

_They came to a halt at the middle of the lake as he lifted the oars out of the water and locked them in place. She could feel the wind waves becoming more pronounced as the boat rise and fell with the water._

_"Hm- What would be the best incentive?" He asked rhetorically with a thoughtful expression. She noticed him leaning into her as he spoke. The small boat only allowed so much space, and she did her best not to blush. With an impish glint in his eyes, he offered. "I have a few things in mind. For example, the Comet 240, the fastest broom on the market. Ah, but I've been thinking of getting you one with or without this conversation, so that wouldn't do. How about a vial of Liquid Luck to give twelve hours worth of good fortune? My disillusionment charms are good enough to get me through Professor Slughorn's cabinets without getting caught." She giggled, and he paused, staring at her with an indecipherable look. She barely saw him lean forward, and the next thing she felt was the soft brush of his lips against hers, sending all rational thought away. It lasted for no more than a second, and as she opened her eyes she wondered if it was just her imagination. He released his grip on her arms and grinned. "Personally, I like the third option best. It's all about fostering teacher-student relationships and giving the student much needed motivation, no?"_

_She could barely respond, knowing the blush on her cheeks was unforgiving. Every last tinge of color had rushed up and washed over her face upon this unexpecting exchange. He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for an answer._

_Suddenly a wave knocked them both off-balance. In her haste, she moved to counter the force, stopping the boat from tipping over. It was all going well, she thought, until she tripped over his foot._

_The last sound she heard before tumbling into the dark, freezing water, was his desperate shout of her name._

* * *

"Great," she thought, staring at the ceiling. "Another dream. Another twisted dream about Albus Dumbledore." She cursed her overactive imagination.

It was her sixth year when it happened. Albus spotted her carrying out her herbology assignment on her own and accompanied her out to the Great Lake. Their search for Cephalopod Ink was successful, and he did nothing to suggest that his intentions were less than noble. In fact, they had a wonderful chat about school, transfiguration, her family, and her plans for the future. What she thought of him was absolutely horrifying. Her Professor, no less! He was the epitome of a gentleman, really. Why her mind conjured such slanderous images was beyond her.

She stared at the ceiling some more, letting her mind wander. Maybe she did want him to do just that during their little trip, as her subconscious mind seemed to suggest. If only he had seen her as more than a little girl during those days… She blinked, momentarily stunned. She rubbed her eyes and blinked again. Was her ceiling moving?

Then she noticed for the first time that someone had been knocking at her door. She had no idea when it had started, but the person seemed to be growing impatient.

She sat up, and to her horror, her entire bedchamber was flooded with water. Her set of vanilla bubble bars must have fallen into the swirling pool at some point. The overbearing fragrance and the even more overwhelming wall of bubbles had caught her off guard. She realized it was not her ceiling that was moving, but her timber bed, which was now floating above the water. The water level was almost reaching her window sill, moments before it would start flooding out of the opening.

In her frustration, she started looking frantically around for her wand, only to realize that it must have fallen into the depths of this bubbling swirl. Of all times to lose her wand! She was about to summon it when she blanched at her visitor's voice, giving her password to enter her private chambers.

There was only one person who knew her password.

"Don't come in!" She managed in a frenzy, but all was in vain. She could see the most bewildered look on Albus's face as the water all but crashed into him like a collapsed dam. She on her bed followed the flow like a mighty sailing ship. Her bed came to an abrupt stop as it crashed into the door frame, sending her flying off the bed. She heard a painful "Oof!" as she landed, crushing his stomach with her landing. He raised his head awkwardly in an attempt to confirm she was who he thought she was, before laying back with a dazed look. She heard him mutter something along the lines of, "a decade of teaching… never underestimate… of all people…"

"Sorry," she managed without spluttering, climbing off of him as she spoke. "You came for breakfast?"

He took a few seconds taking in the situation before rising to his full height and pulling her up. Her wet nightgown, white and thin, hugged her figure in a way he felt was inappropriate for him to watch. Instead, she watched him recollect his composure like picking up a pile of broken glass on the floor.

Finally, he fixed his eyes on her face and smiled. "Yes, though I must say I did not expect- I did not expect what came upon me." It was very unlike him to stutter, but even his intelligent mind was unable to term what he interpreted as a bathing spell gone wrong. He blamed his lack of vocabulary on her semi-transparent nightgown. "I'm afraid you and I need some time to freshen up before classes. May I suggest that you take your next bath in your bath tub?"

The amusement in his voice was unmistakable. She was instantly overwhelmed by embarrassment and her cheeks flushed in response.

"I'll get ready," she muttered in a soft voice, heading back into her room. "See you at lunch, Albus."

He watched her slip back into her rooms, and could not help laughing when she was out of hearing range. He had to stop himself from pondering what she was doing behind those doors before his interruption. "Always a wonder," he mused as he performed a scouring charm on himself.


	4. Chapter 4

At twenty past eight, Minerva had managed to emerge from her quarters in a decent state. She pondered over making an appearance at the Great Hall regardless of her tardiness. Better late than never. But first, she needed to go to the Hospital Wing.

The mediwitch had just finished tending to a burnt seventh-year. He must have attempted the firestorm spell, for a mere Incendio would not have caused so much damage. Poppy had always failed to empathize with students who could not wait to cast dangerous spells under supervision. Most were up to no good when they attempted such spells behind closed doors.

In her years, only two people frequently casted advanced spells outside of classrooms when situations didn't call for it. Head Girl Minerva McGonagall was a fierce supporter of advanced wandless magic, and quite accident-prone to add. She was no doubt the student with the most frequent visits, yet the shortest ones, to the hospital wing. Since Minerva had been an incredibly difficult patient, the previous school matron had learned better than to keep the Scottish storm within the wards. The other was Head Boy Tom Riddle. With his intents, as malicious as Poppy thought them to be, he probably could not afford to visit the hospital wing even if his spells backfired.

Poppy sighed, smiling to herself. The difficult, frequent visitors of the Hospital Wing were usually the ones who made it big in the wizarding world; not those sulking away in safety. She thanked the inventor of sleeping drugs for the peaceful sight of an unconscious Alastor Moody.

Looking up from her bedridden patient, Poppy caught sight of a familiar shadow holding a pointed hat in its hands behind the ward. She poked her head out from the ward and confirmed her suspicions. The owner of the shadow nodded and greeted her. "Good morning, Poppy."

"Minerva!" She hurried out, worry in her eyes. "What in the world happened this morning?"

That sent a blush straight up to Minerva's cheeks. She did not expect Albus to spread the news, at least not this early in the day. "What did Albus tell you?"

"Oh, it wasn't Albus, dear. The Bloody Baron has been ranting all morning about Gryffindors and their ludicrous immaturity. Rumor has it that you tried to build an indoor water-park in your private chambers. He said he saw you steering a boat and knocking Albus unconscious at your door."

Ah, ghosts and portraits. Minerva stopped herself before palming her face.

Spotting her discomfort, she moved on, "Anyway, what brings you here?"

"I need a dreamless sleeping potion, Poppy. Preferably enough doses to last a week."

"A week?" Poppy exclaimed. "Have you been having chronic nightmares?"

"No- yes," Minerva paused, unable to categorize her dreams as such, "Something of the sort."

"And has that got anything to do with the chaos from this morning?" Poppy raised an eyebrow, willing the corner of her mouth not to twitch and give away her amusement.

The telltale blush on Minerva's face was all too obvious. "Absolutely not," she muttered.

"If you say so." Poppy pulled out her wand and pointed it at Minerva's forehead.

"What are you doing?" Minerva demanded, stepping away from her wand by instinct.

"Taking your temperature," Poppy followed her with her wand. "I'm a healer, woman, not a charitable organization. I don't issue drugs with side effects without checking my patients."

Minerva blocked Poppy's wand with her arm in irritation. "I just need a potion and I refuse to be a patient."

"They all say that," Poppy retorted. Her wand finally started to glow and she withdrew with satisfaction. The glow went from orange to yellow, and finally settled on a blue. She frowned. "Your body temperature is frightfully low."

"So is my patience," she grumbled. "I haven't had breakfast yet, and I've been soaked to the bone this morning because of my- an elaborate prank. So it's no wonder that I'm not as warm as I ought to be."

"For Merlin's sake Minerva, just sit down and let me run a full diagnosis." Poppy conjured a chair and forced a grouchy Minerva down. She started muttering a series of spells. Her wand flashed green, yellow, and red at various stages of her diagnosis, as a floating quill and parchment made record of her findings. Eventually she came to a stop.

"Any interesting discoveries?" Minerva drawled in a weary voice.

Poppy flipped to the end of the parchment, and back to the front page. "You're… ovulating," she concluded.

"I'm relieved to know that my menstrual cycle tracking spell was accurate."

"How was your appetite?"

"I'm famished," Minerva admitted, sighing. "I should head onto the Great Hall for breakfast, or whatever remains." She stood up and made a move to leave.

"Okay, okay. Wait," Poppy gestured for her to stay. Sometimes she thought Minerva was a more difficult patient than the troublemaker Alastor. The latter could easily be silenced by a violent stab of a syringe, but the former was much slier. Minerva only approached her with a list of demands waiting to be fulfilled, and whenever the young professor felt that her time was being compromised, she would make almost forceful prompts to get her way.

Poppy raced to her cupboard and emerged with a full set of purplish potions.

"Thank you, Poppy," Minerva smiled gratefully as she took hold of the set. An entire week's worth of dreamless potions. But the pair of hands clutching the base of the set did not let go.

"One last question. How were your dreams, Minerva?" Poppy eyed her suspiciously.

"Spectacular," Minerva managed to respond with a level voice. She could tell Poppy looked unconvinced, but she had retrieved what she wanted in the first place. "Have a good day, Madam."

* * *

If Minerva had to describe the rest of her morning, she had only three words: hungry, restless, and - curiously - lustful.

She had helped herself to a generous serving of breakfast, perhaps more food than she had consumed in the entirety of a week. The house elves did not question her appetite. In fact, they were quite pleased that Missus Defence Arts who usually took no more than a bite of her meals had taken a sudden liking to their cooking.

Then throughout her class, she spent not a minute sitting at her desk. She walked around, correcting wand-work and glimpsing over shaking shoulders of nervous students. Her original plan was to assign thirty minutes of self-study, so she could concentrate on marking their essays. In the end, she spent thirty minutes demonstrating a duel with five of her best students. Claps and cheers thundered down the hallway as the event took place. Her students rejoiced in seeing her youthful, competitive side.

Minerva felt mentally exhausted when she headed for lunch. She had disregarded the curriculum she had set before, and hence she would have to do double the work in the coming few lessons. She wished it to be the end of her troubles for the day. Alas, as she rounded the corner, she bumped into a shameless pair of seventh-years snogging in broad daylight.

"Good morning, Mr. Moody, Miss Vance," she addressed them both in a stern, reprimanding tone. The pair untangled themselves from each other and looked up. Emmeline's face resembled a tomato, but Alastor's smirk said otherwise. Alastor always had a lot of nerves. She had caught him in numerous nasty or compromising situations when she was Head Girl and he was just a short, freckled first year. Yet a small area of baldness on his scalp mingled with burnt hair nearing the right side of his forehead made his smug face look a tad bit comical from her interpretation.

"Hello Professor, heading for the Great Hall? What a coincidence! That's where we're headed too." He grabbed Emmeline's hand and added, "Gonna beat you to it!" They made for a run as soon as Alastor dropped the last syllable.

"Not so fast, Mr. Moody." Minerva crossed her arms and tapped her foot, waiting. She watched the couple freeze and drag themselves back to where she stood. "Detention, both of you. Mr. Moody, you have had too many detentions to count so I'm sure you know where to find me. As for Miss Vance, I will notify Professor Flitwick of your punishment. Now, off to the Great Hall you go, and don't let me catch you doing something less than appropriate in the halls again."

Alastor's shoulders slumped in defeat. He had only distanced himself a mere three steps away from the ever-intimidating Minerva McGonagall before hearing her call after him. "And Mr. Moody," she said loud and clear, "I suggest you consult Professor Dumbledore on the correct application of the firestorm charm, unless you feel up to burning the other side of your scalp."

Minerva shook her head as she watched them leave. She willed herself to not rethink the incident, but somehow her mind had captured their little snogging session and was actively replaying it in her head. Hormone-driven teenagers. In her days, she would never have done something so reckless and shameful. Given her position now, it was even more unlikely that she would engage in blatant animalistic behaviors in the middle of the school hall. Not that she hadn't thought about it, at all. She had, once or twice, imagined bumping into someone she liked and just getting it on. Preferably at night, in a secluded, dark corner in the castle. She imagined it being wild, exciting, and rushed, with a thrill of fear from getting caught. She had, once or twice, fantasized that her partner would have an auburn beard, twinkling blue eyes, and half-moon spectacles.

Suddenly she felt hot and bothered despite the weather of early spring. She also felt an overwhelming urge like the one she had not so long ago, and she wanted to splash cold water onto her face.

Then she felt her face burn when the last person she wanted to see approached her from behind.

"Ah, Minerva, I've been looking for you everywhere." Accompanied by the flurry of purple robes was a scent of sherbet lemons and hot chocolate. She cursed her feline sense of smell. His presence seemed to be magnified, as was his scent and his appeal. He looked more attractive today than he did yesterday, and she wanted to plant a kiss on his cheek. She really wanted to taste him.

Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. He smelled heavenly, she noted with appreciation.

Albus was somewhere between seventh heaven and sharing the mentality of permanent residents in the Janus Thickey Ward when her lips parted from his cheek. He stole a glance at her as she retreated. Her eyes had taken on a dazed, dreamy look, and never had Minerva McGonagall ever given him that look. He could picture the shock written on his face.

"Yes, Albus?" She purred, her arms still wrapped around his neck. With the distance between them, or lack thereof, he could feel her body temperature rising. It shocked him to realize that his was too.

"Right, I was looking for you- uh, to find you- to ask you if you would like to accompany me to dinner," he smiled awkwardly, already berating himself for stumbling over his words. Then he added, "I mean, tonight."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Albus dear. I have to oversee Mr. Moody's detention at seven." She lowered her eyes apologetically, but as soon as she did, she looked up again with a mischievous grin. She leaned in and whispered into his ear. "But I can come to your quarters past nine, we can play chess and share some warm drinks before heading to bed. As the students say, a good session of shagging is guaranteed stress relief."

If his jaw could detach from his skull then it would have happened now. Albus was rooted to the spot until Minerva tugged on his beard like a four year old trying to get attention. "Come now, Armando will hex me into next week if I'm late to a meal again."

With his mind numb and his sense of logic and reality battered to its core, they walked hand-in-hand into the Great Hall.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks Queen Regent of the North, for reminding me that this fic still exists (spare me from your charms)! I've been a bit preoccupied lately but it's a good thing that I still check my email._


	5. Chapter 5

Minerva McGonagall's newfound affection apparently confused her colleagues as much as it did Albus. As they strolled into the hall, she oblivious to all, he as dazed as the most powerful wizard of the century could be, the professors and students gawked in unison. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall had always been close, but not explicitly close. At least not hand-in-hand close. The mass of purple robes was dragged along by an emerald blur as Minerva approached the table. Her uncharacteristic smile was an uncommon, dazzling sight.

"Armando," Albus nodded in his haste as he fell into his chair, his mind still trying to catch up with the circumstances.

Minerva slipped into the chair beside him, her eyes gleaming affectionately at the older man. "Hello, Headmaster. I'm terribly sorry I couldn't make it to breakfast this morning, as you've heard I've had a bit of a mishap in my chambers. But I fully intend to make it up to you in the rest of the semester." Never had Minerva spoken so fast and cheerily. Her words became a slightly slurry string of syllables and the visible movements of her tongue as she pronounced each sound with the new overlay was entrancing.

At her expectant gaze, the Headmaster nodded back, eyes wide with surprise. When she turned away, Armando leaned in to whisper to his Deputy. "I see that for the first time in the century, the Bloody Baron may have spoken the truth. The Defence Mistress has indeed had quite the morning."

"You have no idea," Albus mumbled. He had neither confirmed nor denied the Bloody Baron's assumptions, preferring to let Minerva do the explaining as he himself was quite muddled over the circumstances. All he remembered was seeing Minerva crash into him on her bed, and then seeing her drenched from head to toe in a inappropriately revealing nightgown. It was like his strangest and most erotic dreams rolled into one, and from eight till noon he found himself trying to put the pieces together to no avail.

Without much thought, his hand traveled to his cheek where Minerva's soft lips had lingered for a fleeting moment. As much as Albus revelled in her touch and her brand new clinginess, it struck him as odd. He had dismissed Minerva's attraction to him as an impossibility for six years, that the notion of her openly flirting with him was beyond absurd. He batted the thought away with more force than he intended.

Armando nudged Albus with his elbow to draw him out of his deeper thoughts. He commented, "Miss McGonagall has always acted quite serene during her time here. While I appreciate staff who take their jobs seriously, an occasional laugh makes everyone happy." He smiled reassuringly, "Perhaps this is a change for the better."

Albus agreed up to the last statement until an unusual high-pitched giggle reached his ears, now erupting from the unusually carefree looking professor. He realized that while he had gotten the bulk of her attention for mere minutes, she was now turning to the general male audience.

Beautiful and unapproachable as she were, the male professors seemed almost grateful that she was now showering them with attention. She giggled again as Filius talked of an uncharacteristically naughty Ravenclaw who charmed a third-year Slytherin to grow waist-long eyelashes. Minerva's voice was musical, and it took every nerve in Albus to resist a grunt.

"Albus?" The Headmaster looked up to see his Deputy standing, looking very much disturbed. "Where are you going?"

"I just remembered I've left a boggart unchained in my office," he lied, avoiding what he thought to be Minerva's questioning gaze from afar.

Thankfully, it was absurd enough a reason that Armando seemed to have believed it. Only the absurd was worth believing in a place like Hogwarts. "Why, go lock it up, lad, what if it slips into a classroom?"

"I will," he nodded reassuringly and pulled his chair back. Minerva was definitely following him with her eyes now, even with his back he could tell. There was an unusually fierce gaze in his direction and for some reason, he didn't want to address it.

"I can get the house elves to send your lunch to your office, when you've done away with that creature." The Headmaster offered with concern.

"That will not be necessary," Albus answered promptly. As he strolled down the hallway, he heard Minerva's merry giggles ring across the Great Hall, no doubt in response to some other crude joke his male colleagues have made. Without conscious thought, he grunted and slammed the door behind him. Armando watched the angry wizard disappear with amusement.

* * *

There was no boggart in his office, however. Albus sat in his own fluffy purple armchair and rubbed his temples in an attempt to rid himself of a growing headache. First the morning incident, then she approached him flirtatiously mere minutes before noon, suggesting a night of very private, even passionate nature. And now, there she was, sitting among his other colleagues, flirting with _all _of them like he never existed. Was she playing with his feelings?

He responded to the knock on his door while he was still dazed and not thinking coherently. "Come in."

"Albus?" The voice shook his world once again as the woman that filled his mind entered his office. "Did you get rid of the boggart?" She looked around cautiously as if waiting for the creature to present itself, but something about the way she walked, carelessly warding herself, told him that her mind was onto something else entirely.

"Yes, it's locked away. I've levitated it to the unused classroom at the far end of the third floor corridor. You can use it for your classes if you want." He smiled, standing from his chair. The boggart had been there for as long as he remembered, so it wouldn't be an issue if she went searching for it. He walked to his desk to put some distance between them.

"Ah, thank you," she said gratefully. "It's arranged in the curriculum for the third years, but I can't seem to find the teaching material, so to speak. I was going to approach Armando for a boggart's whereabouts, but I was preoccupied with something else and forgot about it entirely."

"So what brings you here, Minerva? Last I saw you were having a lovely chat with Filius, Horace, and the others." That did not come out right, he inwardly reprimanded himself.

"Armando sent me here. He thought you looked a little distressed when you left, so he wanted me to find out what's going on in that brilliant mind of yours," she said, coming a little too close for his comfort. She was standing right across him and the only thing that separated them was his working desk. With her leaning closer and over the table, it might as well not exist.

"Nothing," he denied, a little too fast to be convincing. "I just had, well, it's embarrassing I guess; I've had too many Sherbet Lemons and am now experiencing a stomachache." He clutched his stomach for extra effect.

"My, a stomachache?" Minerva eyed him worriedly. Albus had managed to conjure an extra layer of sweat on his forehead and for a moment he looked like he was genuinely in pain. It was confusing why he did not appear that much in pain when she first came in, but the problem would have to be fixed no matter what. She clucked her tongue. "I'll take you to Poppy."

"That's really not necessary." Albus made another conscious attempt to slow his sweating. "Ah, it comes and goes." He rubbed his belly and patted it thrice to prove he was fine, but the raised eyebrow on his colleague's face spoke of determination.

"Albus, I'm taking you to Poppy. What if you've had an infection?" She snapped.

"An infection? From what?"

"I don't know, that last time you pricked your finger at The Three Broomsticks, or maybe that afternoon when you were out in Diagon Alley, when you tripped and fell face flat on the ground, who knows? The important thing is that we get you checked up."

"No one gets an infection from tripping and falling," he cried, "How did you even know about that? Weren't you walking in the front with Filius?"

"Bacteria gets into you when you're not looking," she said sternly, dragging the man by his collar as she spoke. She shushed him when he opened his mouth defensively. "Uh-uh. Better safe than sorry."

* * *

It was one o'clock by the time Minerva had successfully dragged an unwilling Albus to the Hospital Wing. Poppy greeted them both with surprise. Minerva flung Albus into the ward and said, "I'll wait here. You better not run."

"Madam Pomfrey," Albus whispered as soon as Poppy lowered the screen and Minerva's shadow faded into the distance, "I don't actually have a stomachache."

Poppy looked visibly annoyed. "What? Then what are you doing here?"

"I faked a stomachache," he tried to explain, noticing the Mediwitch's eyebrows rising high enough to align with her hairline. "I apologize - and yes it was rather underhanded - I was just trying to avoid Minerva."

"I am very disappointed in you, Albus Dumbledore," she concealed the thick needle she had produced from the cupboard and heard the Deputy Headmaster sigh in relief. "Faking a disease is the behavior of a first year student! I'm hard pressed not to take fifty points from Gryffindor. You couldn't at least have downed a stomachache potion?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"A stomachache potion." Poppy glared at him disdainfully as though he was dumber than her first years, who had the common sense to frequent Zonko's Joke Shop before ending up at her wing, "It gives you terrible symptoms and I'd at least have a good time poking you around with a needle."

Albus grimaced. "That's precisely why I decided to reveal the truth."

"So what about Minerva?" Poppy turned around and stared at him squarely with her hands on her hips. "You said you were avoiding her, what for?"

Albus sighed, trying to clear his mind as he explained tentatively, "I don't know. She's behaving strangely. Just before lunch, she gave me a peck on the cheek. I don't know if what she said could be considered flirtatious, but it wasn't entirely innocent in my book. Then suddenly she turned to all the men in the Great Hall as if I'm invisible. I don't know what to make out of her behavior."

Poppy placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently. "Are you in love with her, Professor?"

The bewilderment on Albus's face was unmistakable. "Of course not, how absurd!" His shoulders dropped slightly, "I admire her… I think her an attractive woman. Maybe I've had one or two thoughts about her lately, but they were never overly explicit. It makes me a perverted old man, that's all it is."

"You're in love with her, that's that. There's nothing perverted about it, and besides we've all known for quite some time. It gets frustrating when there's intense want in the air during our meals and no one's bold enough to make a move," Poppy concluded, ignoring the aghast expression plastered on Albus's face. "Now bring Minerva in so I can do a second check-up on her. There's something going on that my first diagnosis wasn't able to detect but as her symptoms surface, it'll be easier."

* * *

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with me, Poppy Pomfrey."

"Yes, yes, I know." Poppy shook her head and waved her wand, "I don't get paid for healing an extra person during working hours, so spare me the headache from hearing your incessant ranting."

"Did you get Albus medicine for his stomachache?" Minerva asked worriedly as she watched the lights dance around Poppy's wand again. The pen seemed to be writing a little more frantically than she remembered, and the parchment lengthened at an alarming rate.

"No," Poppy said, while concentrating on her spell, "Merlin knows why but he's been faking it. He confessed to me as much, before I managed to poke him with my favorite needle."

"Faking it?" Minerva responded with a slightly agape mouth.

"Yes, those who don't need attention are often sent my way for no particular reason and those who do are always trying to escape my ward," she eyed Minerva warily. "I've suggested to Armando more than once to have him set up a diagnosis gate right at my door but he thinks the school budget is better spent entertaining Quidditch fanatics with brand new brooms on the market. All the more casualties."

The lights dimmed and the quill ceased scribbling. The mediwitch seized the parchment from the air and frowned at the words.

"So there really is something wrong with me," Minerva interjected quietly, noting the furrowed brows of the other woman.

"Yes, but I can assure you that whatever catastrophic fatal disease you have in mind, that is not the case," Poppy's hands worked feverishly down to the end of the parchment. When she was done reading, she looked up at a very apprehensive Minerva. "You should be made aware nonetheless. Thankfully, it is documented throughout history and all sorts of cures are listed here." She waved the parchment and Minerva's eyes darted to the sheet covered in mosquito-sized lettering.

"Can you… summarize?" Minerva asked hesitantly, already dreading to read that parchment.

"Well, in medical terms, you - a cat animagus - is entering your estrus cycle, which will last anywhere from five days to three weeks. Since all aspects of the animagi are heavily influenced by their magical abilities, it is safe to say the stronger the animagus, the stronger the effects." Minerva blanched at the explanation. Poppy continued nonetheless, "In other words, you're in heat. A nice long one at that, so please have a look at the list of cures."

Poppy handed the parchment to a metaphorically petrified Minerva and winked, "If all else fails, you know where to find Albus."

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you _Queen Regent Of The North_ and _uma ramrup_ for your lovely reviews!_

_To readers and followers, this is generally a PWP story and I don't have a plot mapped out, so my updates will be quite irregular. Also I'll be spending most of my time on _Monotone of the Rain_, my other multi-chapter fic (it's rather plot-heavy so I want to get it done before I lose my drive). I welcome suggestions on what you want to see happen in the coming chapters, or even what cures Poppy has presented to Minerva. I hope you've enjoyed my fic thus far!_


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